The last I saw of Billy was during one of my engagements at the Palace Theater, New York.He was then soliciting orders for some photograph firm, the halcyon days of his big money having faded to a memory.But he had been a good showman and his was one of the best liked working acts in the Curio, as the dime-museum profession was called.
Of all the acts of this nature that I have ever seen I think the most foolhardy was that of an under-sized Italian who lay on his back on the floor and let fall from his hands, extended upward at arm's length heavy weights upon his chest--the silly fool! I said as much to him--and some other things too.
His act had little entertainment to show as compared with the pain and danger involved.I do not know what became of him, but I can guess.
Among the museum attractions of those years was a man named Wilson who had the incredible chest expansion of twenty-one inches.This man would allow a strong leather strap, about the size of a trunk-strap, to be buckled round his chest; and then, inflating his lungs, would break it with very little apparent exertion.An imitator, named Herman, worked the side shows for a long time with a similar act, and was fairly successful, although his expansion was only about sixteen inches.
The last time I heard of Wilson, he was working in the shipyards at Newport News, Virginia.
Another ``Samson,'' a German, among other sensational feats, such as breaking coins with his fingers, used to flex his muscles and break a dog-chain that had been fastened round the biceps of his right arm.While he was performing at the Aquarium, in London, he issued a challenge.Sandow, then a youth without reputation, accepted the challenge, went upon the stage, defeated him, and, since Samson's act had been the talk of the town, thus brought himself into instant notice, the beginning of a career in which he rose to the top of his profession.After several successful years on the stage, Sandow settled down in London, where I last heard of him as conducting a school of instruction in health and strength methods.
In the tradition of the ``Female Sampsons''
noted in Chapter Eleven, I recall two strong-women who were notably good; Yucca, who lifted a horse by means of a harness over the shoulders; and La Blanche, who toyed with heavy articles in a most entertaining way.Iremember these ladies particularly because both were remarkably good talkers--and I am referring to conversational quality, not to volume.
Lulu Hurst--known variously as The Georgia Magnet, The Electric Girl, The Georgia Wonder, etc.--created a veritable sensation a generation ago by a series of feats which seemed to set the law of gravitation at defiance.Her methods consisted in utilizing the principles of the lever and fulcrum in a manner so cleverly disguised that it appeared to the audience that some supernatural power must be at work.Although she was exposed many times, her success was so marked that several other muscular ladies entered her province with acts that were, in several instances, superior to the original.
One of the cleverest of these was Annie Abbott, who, if I remember rightly, also called herself The Georgia Magnet.She took the act to England and her opening performance at the Alhambra is recorded as one of the three big sensations of the London vaudeville stage of those days.The second sensation was credited to the Bullet-Proof Man.This chap wore a jacket that rifle bullets, fired point-blank, failed to penetrate.The composition of this jacket was a secret, but after the owner's death the garment was ripped open and found to contain-ground glass! The third sensation I must, with all due modesty, (business of bowing) claim for myself.
The Magnet failed to attract after about forty-eight hours, for a keen-witted reporter discovered her methods and promptly published them.The bullet detainer also lasted only a short time only.When my opening added a third sensational surprise, one of the London dailies asked, ``Is this going to be another Georgia Magnet fiasco?''
That they were gunning for me is proved by the fact that the same newspaper investigator who exposed the Magnet, came upon the stage of the Alhambra at my press performance--the same stage where the unhappy Dixie lode-stone had collapsed--and though he brought along an antique slave iron, which he seemed to think would put an end to my public career on the spot, I managed to escape in less than three minutes.When I passed back his irons, he grinned at me and said, ``Idon't know how you did it, but you did!'' and he shook me cordially by the hand.
Some twenty-six years ago I was on the bill with Mattie Lee Price, who, though less well known, was in many ways superior to either Miss Hurst or Miss Abbott.For a time she was a sensation of the highest order, for which thanks were largely due to the management of her husband, a wonderful lecturer and a thorough showman.I think his name was White.
He ``sold'' the act as no other man has sold an act before or since.
We worked together at Kohl and Middleton's, Chicago, and the following week at Burton's Museum, Milwaukee; but when we made the next jump I found that White was not along.They had had a family squabble, the other apex of the triangle being a circus grafter who ``shibbolethed'' at some of the ``brace games,'' which at that time had police protection, so far as that could be given.He had interfered between the couple, and was, I am sorry to say, quite successful as an interferer; but he was a diabolical failure when he attempted to duplicate White's work as lecturer, and the act, after playing a date or two, sank out of sight and I have heard nothing more of her professionally.Lately I have learned that she died in London in 1900 and is buried in Clements Cemetery, Fulham.
